Wilderwood

by Halli Starling

  Octavia spoke to Gregory over their rings, satisfied he would help out at whatever scene they were about to encounter. By now the town was awake; would have been even if not for the screams at dawn yanking them from their warm beds. Villagers dodged out of the way of their horses, pointing them down the road apace to the final home at the turn of the bend. They slammed to a stop just as the home’s front door swung open and a young girl of about ten, flaxen braids flying behind her, launched herself into Octavia’s arms as the vampire stooped to catch her.

  Roderick gaped. The girl was human, no doubt, but she had huge blue eyes and bright pink cheeks that gave her a pixie-like appearance. But her appearance aside, it was the girl snuggling into Octavia’s arms, and Octavia holding her tightly, that made a rather distinct impression.

  “Not what you expected?” Bel asked under their breath.

  Roderick swallowed hard. “I’m a tad surprised, I admit.”

  Bel jammed their hands into their pockets, long, dark grey coat moving with them. “Octavia knows every person in this place. She’s known their families generations back. Every single one of them is like her own. She celebrates every birth, mourns every death, and remembers every name.” The reverence in their voice hit Roderick square in the gut, and there guilt swam, churning its waters.

  “Phoebe, what happened?” Octavia asked, pulling back to look at the girl.

  Phoebe pointed. “Moms are out back. The cows, they’re…” she sniffled. “Please go.”

  With a swift nod, Octavia set the girl on the ground. “Can you go next door, go see baby William perhaps?”

  Phoebe nodded. “I can. They already offered to let me stay.”

  “Good.” From her pocket Octavia produced a sweet and pressed it into the girl’s hand. “Go on.” She waited until the girl disappeared next door before turning to the two Rangers. “I doubt this is going to be pretty.”

  The sound of hooves thundered up the lane behind them and soon Gregory came into view, red-cheeked but his expression serious. He swung down from his mount and came to Octavia’s side. “We should go,” he rumbled.

  They followed closely, round the path beside the house and then to the back. The house had several garden beds that looked tilled for spring, but beyond that was a wide, low field, almost marshy now because of the spring rains.

  The field was full of dead cows. But they weren’t just dead, they were melted. Bits of bone and flesh stuck up odd angles, like whatever or whoever had done such a horrible thing didn’t bother to finish the job completely. It was a horrifically gruesome sight and all Octavia could wonder was how?

  As they neared, the overwhelming stench of decay hit them. Gregory growled in response and Octavia put a soothing hand on him, while the Rangers covered their noses with scarves. Two women, both rather tall, were staring out at the field with handkerchiefs pressed to their noses. One turned and saw the four of them approaching. Roderick saw her blink dark green eyes, the pupils like a cat’s.

  The other woman pulled Octavia into a hug immediately, her green-eyed wife looking on only to steal Octavia into another hug as soon as she was relinquished. “Tia, Yalinda, what happened?”

  Roderick and Bel listened as the two women described a normal night - dinner, making sure the cows were in pasture, putting Phoebe to bed before settling down for tea by the fire. “We listened to the rain for a bit, then went to bed. Got up at dawn and that’s when we smelled it. Came out here and….” Tia looked away. “I screamed. I couldn’t help it. I don’t know how you got here so fast, Octavia.”

  Octavia swallowed hard. “I heard you. From up at the manor.”

  Tia and Yalinda stared at her, wide-eyed, and Gregory hopped in to suggest tea inside might be needed about now. Both women followed him dutifully, leaving Octavia and the Rangers to survey the field.

  “What a fucking mess,” Roderick said, swiping a hand through his hair. Octavia now noticed he was armored and armed, but hadn’t yet shaved. He looked rather rugged, she had to admit. And then she saw Bel’s lips twitch and had to fight back the temptation to elbow them in the side.

  “We should spread out,” Bel said. “See what we can find.”

  “Agreed. And then I’m going to see the triplets. This can’t keep happening, spring equinox be damned.” Octavia’s tone was fierce, the anger and frustration in her eyes shining brightly. “Unless you two want to join in that as well.”

  “I’d rather stay in town, see if I can pick up anything else. Gregory and I used to be a fair tracking team,” Bel replied, hand on their sword. “Plus they’ve never been fond of me.” They passed by Octavia and he didn’t miss the way Bel’s hand brushed over the small of the vampire’s back. It made his gut twist, that little, intimate touch. That small thing that spoke volumes.

  Octavia snorted, then turned to Roderick. “You should come with me. The sisters may have more information for you, or us. Especially since they apparently reached out to you already.”

  “Or they’ll send him running for the hills,” Bel said as they began to walk a careful circuit around the outside of the field. “They’re not to be trifled with, no matter how interesting they are.”

  Roderick nodded. “I’d be honored.”

  “You say that now.” Octavia’s smile was grim. “But Bel’s right, they’re powerful and intelligent and only stay out of what I have been assured is an interest in protecting Wilderwood.”

  Now Roderick was curious. “You doubt their motivations?”

  Octavia hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip and drawing Roderick’s gaze in a way that made his blood heat. “I’d rather not discuss this now. We’ll leave in a few, once Gregory’s back.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “I know that’s not the answer you wanted. My relationship with the sisters is complicated. They are allies to the town, but personally it is a different matter.”

  Roderick remembered those voices as they drifted to him while he sat in the bath. He’d felt haunted in the moment, seen by powers his human mind couldn’t comprehend. “I understand. But if I’m to help in these matters, clarity is important.”

  Octavia gave him a small smile. Its warmth hit him in the chest. “As is trust.”

  They split up, Bel walking into the field to begin whatever they did with magic, leaving Roderick to look for any signs of anything beyond melted bovines. Once Gregory returned to her side, he and Octavia began activating the town’s emergency protocols, which seemed to involve stronger wards and locking the town down.

  After a few minutes, Gregory took off at a jog and Octavia returned to Roderick. “I hate having to do this,” she said softly, looking at the horizon as the sun rose. “I haven’t had to lock the town down for a century. It’s peaceful here. An easy life.”

  She looked so tired, so sad in that moment. It tugged at him to watch her mourn something he couldn’t fully understand. “I’m sorry,” he said as he touched her arm. Her gaze flicked down to his hand on her sleeve but she didn’t pull away. “I can’t help but feel somewhat responsible, like I brought this trouble to your door. Luther is a danger, that much I know. But whatever this is -“

  “It would have found us no matter what.” Octavia sighed. There was a flicker of something like grief over her face before she squared her shoulders and gave him a nod, setting off around the field’s east perimeter. Roderick’s hand dropped to his side, his fingertips still tingling where they’d connected with her. He trod off in the opposite direction as he dug out his leather-bound kit of tools.

  And in the middle of the field Bel stood strong and tall, hands flashing with arcane energy in dizzying patterns of blue and white. From the corner of his eye he couldn’t recognize the language the runes were in, but his body understood the sizzle of magic. The taste of ozone on his tongue, the way his hair ached at the roots. From the look on Octavia’s face, she felt it as well. He remembered his studies, long ago in those dusty libraries the Rangers insisted on keeping, and how he’d read that born vampires were sensitive to m
agic. With interest, he noted how Octavia actually stepped closer to the other Ranger.

  Shouldn’t she have been moving away? Curious. Another mystery, one not important in the moment, especially as he stood over a set of strange markings in the loose dirt near the field’s edge. With precise, practiced movements, Roderick put on his goggles and flipped the lenses until the sweeping patterns in the dirt came into view.

  There was a spark, like electricity, near Bel, and they muttered a curse. “Fucking shit,” they groused, shaking out their hand like they’d been shocked.

  “Problem?” Octavia’s expression was deadly serious as she neared Bel.

  “Not sure,” they grunted, spinning the floating arcane rune traced in the air roughly ninety degrees. “Something doesn’t want me to figure out -“

  Their conversation faded in the background as Roderick took out a pair of long tweezers and plucked an object from the dirt. It was a long, thick black feather, the sheen of it dancing like a rainbow in the early morning light.

  It all happened at once. Bel let out a startled cry and fell back, clutching their head, Octavia rushing to their side with blinding, inhuman speed. Roderick was flung back about fifteen feet to land on his ass, the soles of his boots sizzling.

  And that black feather darted forward, as if pulled by a magnet, into the floating circle of Bel’s magic. The feather smacked into the runes with a pop and Bel fell to their knees, wrenched from Octavia’s grip.

  The feather was on fire, burning bright blue and green with magic. The sound that escaped Bel was not a cry of pain or shock. It was a growl, like that from a wounded animal. Roderick met Octavia’s eyes across the field as they both stared at the space in the air where the feather burned before watching as Bel, head hung low, said, “That was a warning.”

  “Of what?” Roderick was flabbergasted. Melted cows, burning feathers, and now…..

  “From whom, you mean,” Bel said, still looking down at the ground, their chest heaving with effort.

  “Bel, what -“ Octavia gave Roderick a helpless look and by all the gods it hurt.

  Bel looked up, hazel eyes flashing with power, making them glow from the inside. The white streaks in their hair widened, twisting as if controlled on their own. And fingers clenched around Octavia, looking for a lifeline. “The Queen.”

  Their words were lost as Tomas came running up, eyes wild. Octavia thought it was because of the cows but then she smelled the blood on his hands. Gregory rushed from the house and to the young man’s side. “What happened? Are you injured?”

  “No.” Tomas was ashen faced. “The Radens just outside of town?”

  Something dropped in Octavia’s stomach. “Please, no.” She and Gregory shared a look full of dread before she said, “Roderick, can you take Bel back to the manor?” Bel opened their mouth but she shook her head. “Please, Bel. I need to know you’re taken care of.”

  “All right.”

  With their fellow Ranger’s help, Bel slowly walked out of the field, leaving Octavia, Gregory, and Tomas. Gregory was the first to speak. “How bad?”

  “All three.” The boy was shook, his eyes darting in their sockets, his lip bloody from where he kept biting it. “It’s bad.”

  “Tavia?”

  More death. More loss. Any hesitance she had about activating the town’s alarm system dispersed. The Radens had lost so much before coming to Wilderwood and now…

  Anger flooded her lungs, forcing her to choke on it. She swallowed hard, ground her teeth until her jaw ached. She’d mourn later; but now anger served her far better. “Gregory, please.”

  There was never a question posed. He knew she needed him, just as he needed her. But in times of hardship, when loss suffocated them all, he was always at Octavia’s side. They barreled toward the Radens’ farm on foot, following the scent of blood past the little home and into the woods.

  “Fucking woods again,” Gregory growled over the wind, his eyes already going orange at the edges. “Tavia maybe –“

  “Do not.” She slammed to a stop and pointed down. The hand on the forest floor, fingers half buried in the mud, was long and thin. They both knew the hammered silver band on the middle finger belonged to Edward, the young grandson of Victor Raden. “They’ve no other family, Gregory. We must make this right.”

  Ten

  “Even now they scramble, like ants,” Bemora hissed in glee, watching the town of Wilderwood pull in ranks. “Their charms won’t protect them. In four days, the equinox arrives and the wards will be at their weakest. Then we strike.”

  Luther surveyed the area from Bemora’s perch on the cliffs above Wilderwood. He couldn’t see what she did, as her eyes were supernaturally keen, but he could smell fear on the air. “So, we leave them to scurry? Why not cause more mayhem?”

  Bemora’s claws raked out, missing his eye by an inch. That deadly talon sizzled with bladed, poisoned death. “And you called me eager before. We wait for the Queen’s word. She wishes to take the town in one go, and attacking now would rile the witches. They could expel us.”

  “And leave the Queen vulnerable,” Luther finished. “I know.”

  Bemora gnashed her shark-like teeth at him with a snarl. “You wait because you chose to ally with the Queen, so you do as she commands.” She pointed one of those hooked claws at the town. “If you wish to go, I’m sure your Ranger would accommodate you in a fight.” She raised her face to the cold wind, eyes closed. “He smells like vengeance and death and pain.”

  Luther knew what Ranger Arman would do if he caught sight of him skulking around Wilderwood’s edges. And as much as his bloodlust burned in his veins, if he lured the Ranger now, the plan would be ruined. Surprise was an element they were relying on to usher Queen Svronna into this world so she could claim it, clasp it as her own. Another jewel in her crown. Her influence would spread, and he and Bemora and a few other trusted lieutenants would sit at her side as she commanded her armies to sweep these lands and take back what was theirs.

  The Faelands had once encompassed this world, but no human, vampire, fae, were, or other kind knew this history. It had been burned from all language, all memory, when Queen Svronna had been banished from these lands. And now she finally was strong enough to break the barriers between worlds and claim it as her own once more.

  Ranger Arman’s petty vengeance for the death of his partner wouldn’t matter. Luther would tear his head from his body, drink from the stump of his neck, and throw the corpse in the ocean while his Queen watched.

  Finally, he turned to the feathered, clawed woman beside him and said, “And what of the witches?”

  She shrugged. “They are only as powerful as their coven, and one of them has her doubts. I will sow a seed tonight and watch it flourish.” Bemora grinned. “The Queen gave me this one for a special occasion.” With shocking gentleness, she reached into a pouch strapped on her feathered leg and drew out a bead the size of a marble. Its oily black surface glinted in the damp spring light. “This one speaks with such beautiful horrors.”

  ***

  Octavia stood before the little copper bowl with great regret. Activating the town’s emergency wards felt like failure. And as she stared into the swirling green water, she wondered if they’d ever recover. The Radens had been slaughtered, mutilated. An entire herd of livestock had been melted into the ground. Hunters had been draped like streamers in the nearby forest.

  Few in Wilderwood had been around since the last time this happened. Then it had been a rabid were lurking in the forest canopy, plucking victims from the nearby roads and leaving their gnawed, mangled corpses strewn about fields. It had been a truly frightening time, one Octavia still occasionally visited in her nightmares. When Octavia took over town leadership, she had the Montgomery triplets layer in several protections - wards, blockades, alarms. All meant to keep the town safe.

  But it also meant keeping those who wished to stay inside the town, something she knew might cause unrest. The residents of Wilderwood were
free spirits and roamed as they pleased. No liked being kept inside a prison, especially one of their own making.

  “You worry.” Merry was at her side, her large brown eyes staring steadily down at the bowl. “You have a good heart, Octavia. You keep everyone safe.”

  Octavia sighed and leaned heavily on the pedestal where the bowl sat. “That’s kind. But this feels like...like…”

  “An end.” Octavia winced and Merry put her arm around the vampire’s shoulders. “And yet after ends are beginnings.”

  “Ready?” Tempest was now on her other side, smelling like incense and oud, her hands coated in charcoal.

  “Yes. The town comes first.” Octavia lifted her gaze and met Roderick’s eyes across the room. He nodded once, slowly, and she felt a rush go through her. She’d selfishly wanted Bel here with her when this happened but knowing Roderick was there and willing to assist eased the tension in her shoulders somewhat. He’d proven himself to be capable and thorough, two traits she admired.